


Fireworks

by Banshee1013



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Smut, New Year's Kiss, Reunions, Separations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-19 03:21:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22504399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banshee1013/pseuds/Banshee1013
Summary: Castiel finds himself in Hong Kong on New Year's Eve - alone again, naturally.He never expected in a million years that the man who broke his heart fifteen years ago would turn up here, of all places, on this night.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 83





	Fireworks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aidokime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aidokime/gifts).



> Fic for Aidokime's lovely art, and for the PB Birthday Scavenger Hunt.  
> 
> 
> Expertly beta'd by Archeolatry.
> 
> Nothing like last-minute submissions, amirite?

Another errant firework exploded in the harbor district, rattling the bar windows and causing Castiel to jump, aggravating his already strained nerves. He drained the whiskey in his glass and motioned to the bartender for another. 

Even in Hong Kong, the universal sign of “pour me another” is easily interpreted, and the bartender complies with a sympathetic smile.

A solitary foreigner in a bar full of strangers on New Year’s Eve. Castiel was glad for both the sympathy and the hasty service, but would have traded them both to be anywhere but there. 

Ah, well, he muses. Not like it was the first time… and really, who’s to miss him anyway?

The vagaries of business with world markets had often taken him away from home over the holidays, but the thing about being an orphan --and single-- was there was no one to be upset at his absence. It also made him invaluable to his boss and nicely padded in his bank account - which he was currently putting a dent in at this bar. Damn his overly exuberant metabolism for making him a very expensive drunk. 

Well, he deserved this. The deal successfully navigated; signed, sealed and delivered. Nothing else to do until his flight home tomorrow. At least here, in a room full of strangers, he felt less like a loser than he would sitting in his hotel room alone. Here, at least, he could enjoy others celebrating. 

He drained the glass again and motioned for another. This time the bartender is not as prompt, and gives him more of a concerned look when he _does_ pour another two fingers. Castiel gives him a wan grin, tilting the glass in a half-hearted toast, drawing a knowing look from - he squinted at the bartender’s name tag - “James”. 

Castiel is certain he’s not the first world-weary visitor to occupy a barstool at this establishment. Victoria Harbor was a popular tourist destination, and the bar was positioned in an area excellent for viewing the harbor’s vaunted New Year’s fireworks display. 

As the clock inexorably ticked closer to midnight, the bar became busier and noisier, more faces filling the mirror in front of him. This suited Castiel just fine, an excellent distraction from his thoughts. 

But what he _wasn’t_ expecting to hear at a bar in Hong Kong on New Year’s Eve was a very familiar voice.

“Heya barkeep, what’s good around here?” A cheerful, brassy voice with a hint of a growl and midwest twang sailed above the din of foreign languages. 

Castiel’s head snapped toward the speaker, and disbelief clogged his breath and stilled every thought in his brain as the newcomer sauntered up to the bar, taking an empty stool to the right of him.

Dean. Dean Winchester. In Hong Kong… how? 

Castiel couldn’t stop himself from staring. Even in the subdued lighting of the bar, he was beautiful, red highlights glinting in the sandy blonde hair, dark eyes sparking green as the errant light hit them. The easy smile flashing warm as James the bartender poured whiskey into his glass, matching the smile and succumbing to his charm, as all do.

Still as beautiful as the day he disappeared from Castiel’s life.

“D-Dean?” Castiel manages to choke out around the lump in his throat.

The whiskey sloshes in the glass, with Dean jolting in surprise at hearing his name and spinning to find the source. His eyes light upon Castiel and widen in shock.

“Oh… my God… Castiel? Cas, is that… really you?” Dean’s voice stuttering in surprise.

“Yeah, it’s… ” Castiel began, but was startled into silence by Dean’s sudden appearance at his side, his hand moving toward Castiel’s face, pulling back quickly as he realized what he was doing and glancing downward in embarrassment.

Long lashes against freckled cheeks, and Castiel found himself again unable to breathe. 

Dean glanced back up to meet Castiel’s gaze, and he was shocked to see Dean’s eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I can’t believe… it’s really you… here, of all places…” Dean stammered, then, turning to retrieve his glass, downed it in a single gulp and gestured to James to bring another. He took a steadying breath. “What are you doing here?” 

“Business,” Castiel said absently, still not quite believing the presence of the man before him. He doesn’t dare blink, lest the apparition in front of him disappear. “What… what brings you here?” 

James approached and Dean waved at both glasses, his eyes never leaving Castiel’s. He laughed softly.  
“Business. Same as you.” Shyly, Dean’s hand once again reached toward Castiel, softly brushing against the knuckles Castiel suddenly realized had gone white, wrapped tightly around his glass. His touch was light, tentative, unsure. A shock like a burst of static electricity shot up Castiel’s arm as Dean’s touch firmed, fingers wrapping around his on the glass. 

Like a dam breaking, the words began to pour from both of them simultaneously.

“How have you been…”  
“Holy shit, I can’t believe you’re here…”  
“This is quite the coincidence…”  
“I’m so happy to see you…”

“Why did you leave?” Castiel heard himself blurt out, the hurt and pain evident in his voice. He slammed his mouth shut, mortified.

Dean lurched back as if slapped, hand pulling away from Castiel’s, leaving it cold in the absence of Dean’s warmth. Wrapping around his own glass, Dean downed the whiskey and set the glass back down on the bar, eyes averted. 

He sighed and nodded to himself. “I deserve that.” His eyes turned back to Castiel’s, intense and pleading.  
“Believe me, I didn’t want to leave. But I had no choice.” He grasped Castiel’s hand again, prying his fingers from his glass to clasp it tightly while finding his other hand to do the same, and squeezing as if to push his conviction directly into Castiel’s skin. “Please… please believe me…”

Castiel suddenly found himself back in time to that first day, sitting on the floor of the chapel of the boys’ home, staring at the ivy-covered cross above the altar and pleading for answers with a tear-streaked face. Pleading with God for the reason why his parents were killed in that auto accident and yet he lived. Begging for a reprieve from the pain of loss.

God did not answer him - or at least not directly. He later came to believe that God did speak to him that day, using a sandy-haired boy with kind green eyes and warm smile as His instrument. Dean found him there that day and knelt next to him, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder, the warmth radiating from him like a balm to Castiel’s agonized soul. 

“Hey… hey, it’s gonna be ok. What’s your name?”  
“C-Castiel…” he had stammered through stifled tears.  
“Castiel… that’s a mouthful! My name’s Dean.”  
“Hello, Dean.” Castiel turned to look at the kind stranger.

At sixteen years of age, Castiel was able to recognize and admire beauty when he saw it, and when he first laid eyes on Dean that day, he was struck dumb by the sight.

A shaft of light beamed through the window of the chapel, striking him and setting the sandy blonde hair aflame, bright eyes blazing green, smile radiant. He glowed like an angel.

After what seemed like an eternity, Castiel finally found his voice. “Cas…” his voice squeaked, and he quickly cleared his throat before trying again. “You can call me Cas.” 

Impossibly, Dean’s smile became even more radiant. “Cas it is!” He stood then and offered his hand to help Castiel up. “C’mon, It’s almost time for lunch. We’re having cheeseburgers- my favorite!” Castiel took the proffered hand and Dean pulled him to his feet. Cas turned, expecting Dean to release his hand and lead the way, but Dean did not release him; Dean pulled him back around and examined his face, his smile faltering. 

“Can’t let the other guys see you like this. You’ll never live it down,” he said softly, reaching up to gently wipe the tears from Castiel’s face with the soft flannel of his sleeve. Satisfied with his work, the beaming smile returned.

“There ya go! Presentable!” he declared, releasing Castiel’s hand with a final squeeze. “Now let’s go get those burgers before they’re all gone.” 

That was the first of many meals they would share, quickly becoming inseparable…and then more. 

It was movie night, and the boys had all gathered in the TV room. Dean and Cas took their customary positions on the couch in the back, their seniority (and Dean’s overwhelming popularity) granted them exclusive rights to it. “Stand By Me” was a popular movie in the home, mostly due to the limited movie selection. The boys would chant along with many of the scenes, most of which Dean and Castiel participated in with great delight. There was one scene, however, that Castiel could not participate in. While shouting “run Run RUN!” during the train scene, the boys failed to notice Castiel turning away, his face gone pale. Dean noticed, of course, and knew exactly why - the accident that took Castiel’s parents involved their car being struck by a train. During this scene, he would pull Castiel’s head to his shoulder, blocking his sight and covering his ears with hand and shoulder. This particular viewing, he added something new - a gentle kiss to the top of Castiel’s head, which sent a wave of shock and heat through Castiel’s body. 

Then, during Dean’s favorite scene --Gordie fainting after crossing the river full of leeches and discovering one on his groin-- the boys teased each other over their reactions if the same thing should happen to them. Dean would turn to Castiel, asking him if he would get the leech off Dean’s dick for him. Every other night, Castiel would blush and roll his eyes, and Dean would laugh at his embarrassment. 

That night, when Dean asked the customary question, Castiel had a different response. The heat from the chaste kiss still burning in his veins, he paused, his eyes drawn to Dean’s lips... 

“I would do so much more than that,” he breathed, leaning over to taste that smile. 

For a brief moment, Dean stiffened at the contact, then with a muffled groan, softened against him, giving over to the kiss and returning it in kind. When Castiel realized what he’d done, he pulled away quickly, glancing around at the other boys in alarm. But no one had noticed - the room was dark and the other boys were still focused on the movie. Hesitantly, he turned back to Dean, fearing what he would see on his face.

Even in the low light, Castiel could see Dean’s reaction: eyes wide and pupils blown, lips parted and wet from the kiss. Castiel was not able to admire the sight for long, though, as Dean grasped the back of his head and pulled him back down. 

In the months after that first kiss, they explored each other. Tentatively at first- small touches and heated kisses giving way to more heated exchanges, hidden away in alcoves or closets or empty classrooms. When the oldest boy turned 18 and aged out, his private room was left empty. Dean acquired it, and with it a place for him and Castiel to expand their exploration. The first night in his new room, Dean whispered for Castiel to join him after his roommates had fallen asleep, and upon his arrival presented him with a bottle of Astroglide and a box of condoms. They wasted no time stripping each other down. Castiel gently, lovingly opened Dean up before pushing inside him for the first time. Dean whimpered and sighed with pleasure underneath him, Castiel covering his mouth gently to stifle Dean’s cries as he came, and muffling his own cries in Dean’s shoulder as he joined him. 

And then, the day came when Castiel knocked on Dean’s door and found the room empty. Dean was gone, without a word or any indication that he had ever been there. 

Needless to say, Castiel was shattered. All Sonny, the head counselor, would tell him was that Dean had been called away and had to leave immediately. 

He never saw or heard from Dean again. Not until tonight, fifteen years later and half a world away. 

“It was my dad. He came and pulled me out of the home. He needed me to take care of my little brother while he was off on business...” Dean explained, the words rushing from him in his urgency.

“And you couldn’t pick up a phone, or write a letter?” Castiel growled, pulling his hands away. Grasping the surprisingly refilled glass, he tilted it back, pounding the contents before slamming the glass back down on the bar, glaring at Dean’s reflection in the mirror. 

“I… I wanted to, Cas, so much… but my dad… he wouldn’t have understood, and I was so busy with the business and taking care of Sammy…” he paused, choking on emotion as the tears forming in his eyes began to fall, rolling silently down his cheeks. “And then… then Dad died, and by then I had lost track of you. I called Sonny and he said you aged out and split, and he had no idea where you had gone.” 

James had miraculously appeared again, refilling the glasses without a word before disappearing to the other end of the bar. Dean grabbed the glass with shaking hands, downing it and setting the glass down, meeting Castiel’s glare in the mirror. 

Castiel’s heart broke again at the sight of Dean’s tear-streaked face reflected there. He turned back to Dean and spun him around to face him. Reaching for a bar napkin, he wiped the tears from Dean’s freckled cheeks. 

“Can’t let the other guys see you like this. You’ll never live it down,” he said softly. 

Dean hitched a sob. “I’m so, so sorry, Cas,” he choked out. “I missed you so damned much. I never found anyone like you… no one else even came close.” 

Castiel blinked back tears of his own at Dean’s admission. “I couldn’t either, Dean,” he said, shaking his head, then grasped Dean’s face in both his hands, forcing him to look into his eyes. “You’re incomparable.”

Castiel was becoming dimly aware of a rhythmic sound permeating the bar - a countdown? Releasing Dean, he glances down at his watch; Dean does the same.

They had lost all track of time - and it was fifteen seconds to midnight. 

Looking back up at each other, movements as synchronized as their watches, their eyes widened in recognition of the moment approaching them.

New Year’s First Kiss.

The patrons of the bar began counting down in a variety of languages:  
“Shí!”  
“Dievit!”  
“Hashtoom!”  
“Qī!”  
“Chhatha!”  
“Pente!”  
“Sì!”  
“Tiga!”

“TWO!” Dean exclaimed, standing and pulling Castiel to his feet, his hands reaching to bury his fingers in Castiel’s hair.

“One…” Castiel whispered against Dean’s lips, arms around his waist as he pulls Dean against him.

Victoria Harbor erupted in light and sound as they lose themselves in each other, the fireworks behind them pale in comparison to the ones exploding in their minds and hearts and senses. Sights and sounds faded from comprehension, their world consisting of nothing but each other for those few moments before they part, breathless and staring into each other’s eyes.

Dean pulled Castiel back to him, pressing a kiss to his neck. “I’m never losing you again,” Dean breathed against the shell of Castiel’s ear. 

Castiel hummed into Dean’s neck. “You couldn’t if you tried.” 

James the bartender looked on, smiling. Pulling a bottle of champagne from the cooler under the bar, he popped the cork and filled three champagne glasses, setting them and the bottle down. 

Startled by the pop of the cork, Castiel and Dean turned toward the sound. James lifted one of the glasses of champagne and tilted it toward the two glasses on the counter.

Taking the hint, Castiel and Dean each lifted a glass. James leaned over and clinked his glass against theirs.

“Congratulations,” he said in heavily accented English, and took a sip from the glass around lips stretched in a broad smile.

Castiel and Dean laughed and took a sip, then turned to each other.

“To reunions,” Dean intoned, clinking his glass against Castiel’s.  
“To the rest of our lives,” Castiel proclaimed.

Together, they tip the glasses back. 

Setting the glasses down on the bar, Castiel fished his wallet blindly from his back pocket, pulled several hundred dollar bills from it and placed them on the bar, his eyes never leaving Dean. 

Dean took his hand, and without another word, they turned and headed out into the night, into the beginning of the New Year.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> If you like Destiel works/art and also an awesome community of folks, come join us on the [Profound Bond Discord Server](http://discord.profoundbond.net/). WE HAVE COOKIES. :D


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